"The Mirror" (James 1:22-25)

James 1:22-25

Pastor Tom Johnson, August 30, 2015

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

“Thou, O Queen, are the fairest in the land.” 

And then later on, the mirror says, “Snow White, O Queen, is the fairest of them all.” 

This sends the queen into a rage. So the Law can offend us. Mirrors, in fact, do speak. The picture they give, as the cliché goes, is worth a thousand words. Mirrors reflect light back. If the surface of the mirror is curved like it is at the carnival, it will send you a distorted image; you may look taller, shorter, wider, or narrower. The mirror we are talking about is no carnival attraction. There is no nick, bump, kink, or a spot on its surface. It is perfectly plane and completely flat. Its silver-coated glass is spotless. It sends a perfect image back. This mirror has been hand-crafted by no earthly craftsman but the Creator and the eternal Word himself. It is a window into our own souls. To look into this mirror is to see the naked self—the true and unfiltered me. This mirror is the Law.

When we look into this mirror, our imperfections stare back at us—the wear and tear of time—the scars and blemishes—the ravages of living in fallen world. We are confronted with what the Law tells us to do and how we have failed: We have served other gods, taken God’s name in vain, neglected his Word and worship, not honored our parents, done bodily and emotional harm to one another, been unfaithful, taken what is not ours, gossiped and slandered, and been jealous of one another. We have broken each of the Ten Commandments.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all.” 
“Thou, O Sinner, are most certainly not,” the Law says,

“You are, by your fallen nature, sinful and unclean. You have sinned in thought, word, and deed, by what you have done and by what you have left undone. You have not loved God with your whole heart; you have not loved your neighbor as yourselves. You justly deserve God’s present and eternal punishment.”

It is a courageous and bold thing to do—to look into this mirror and confront the reality of our failures. But that is exactly what this Scripture is calling us to do—to look into the mirror and remember what we see—to be mindful of how we need to grow—that God wants us to mature and grow into Christ-likeness. Looking into this mirror and forgetting what we look like is, perhaps, like how we Photoshop our pictures. We erase the memory of those blemishes, that waist-line, the wrinkles under our eyes and upon our brows. We create a false image where even supermodels no longer look like the supermodels.

It is a common thing for actors to not want to see themselves on the screen and to take off their headphones in a radio interview so that they don’t have to even listen to themselves speak. They painfully see and hear—as through a mirror—their imperfections. Charles Spurgeon, a 19^th century English Baptist preacher, was one of the first people to have his voice recorded and played back on a cylinder audio recorder. He said, “The worst punishment for preachers would be to listen to their own sermons. After hearing themselves preach, they would say with Cain of old, ‘My punishment is too great for me to bear!’”

The Law is a schoolmaster, Scripture says, that leads us to Christ (Gal 3:4). It is like one of those nannies you see with small children leading them to the grade school of the Gospel. There is order. There is direction. There is discipline. One preacher said, “You may take a piece of silk thread, and try to sew with it as long as you like, but you will do nothing with it alone. You want a sharp, piercing needle to go first, and that will draw the silken thread after it. So, the needle of the Law prepares the way for the thread of the gospel” (Robbie Flockhart).

There is great power and promise in this difficult gaze into the mirror. Because God’s purpose is not to humiliate us or condemn us but lead us to the cleansing waters of Baptism and dress ourselves in the perfect righteousness of Christ. This is what it means to be a “doer of the Word”—to experience the life-transforming grace of the Gospel—to realize one’s need for forgiveness and to realize its promise through Christ. Scripture says that we are God’s mirrors of Christ to the world. We radiate Christ into all eternity more brightly than the midday sun. “All of us,” one Scripture says, “with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image” (2 Cor 3:18).

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” 

“Snow White is the fairest of them all”
—the spotless Lamb of God—our sacrifice without blemish, our Savior without sin—who gave his life and rose again to give us a makeover.

It begins with a hard look in the mirror. It ends with us radiating his glory forever.

"Lord, to whom shall we go?" (John 6:56-69)

John 6:56-69

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, August 23, 2015

There could be several reasons why the disciples took offense at Jesus and decided to stop following him. It may have been offering his body and blood as bread and drink. It may have been his assertion that our faith is a work of God—that God grants and gives faith. They are offended. Jesus’ sayings have become too strange and difficult. They turn away and leave. These who were once disciples—pupils—students of Jesus no longer wish to learn from this Master. It just does not seem worth it anymore.

To whom did they go?. Did they go to their synagogues and communities of faith to search the Scriptures to see if what Jesus taught was true? Did they look for prophet that would scratch their itching ears? Or did they go to the safe and predictable world of their own natural, day-to-day thinking? Jesus does not seem surprised. He even turns to the remaining twelve disciples and asks them, “Do you also wish to go away?” Jesus’ candor and transparency here is unsettling—as unsettling as  what caused the offense in the first place.

Do you ever feel like packing your bags and calling it quits? Have you burned out from the life of a disciple whose world is frequently turned upside down? Are you just tired of it all—ready to throw in your towel—and give up the good fight? “Do you also wish to go away?” “Be honest,” Jesus says. “Just let it out. I won’t be surprised.” Jesus wants to draw out those hidden and unspoken thoughts. He wants to bring them into the light. Sometimes it is cleansing just to speak from our hearts. Why should any of us blindly ride the coattails of our parents or those who encouraged us in the faith? What is wrong with turning away to the world with all of its diversity and alternatives to the Christian faith? Do you and I also wish to just go away at times? Maybe it is the mystery of the bread and the wine and how it is also the Body and Blood of Jesus. Perhaps it is the profound doctrine of God’s foreknowledge and his supreme reign even over our hearts and minds. Or maybe it is something else. Is it the hypocrisy of the Church? Is it the lack of love and judgment we find in our communities of faith? To put it bluntly, why is Christianity on the decline in the West? Or are people just more honest with themselves these days and courageous enough to say enough is enough?

Jesus is not panicking here in this text even though most of his followers just decided to go their separate ways. By turning to the disciples and asking them if they want to join them, he is giving them space and time to make their journey their own. He gives them freedom to explore and struggle on our own. “Do you also wish to go away?” Peter answers, “To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” Jesus, we have strayed away in our hearts. We have explored this wilderness for another flower. We have tasted the world’s bread and sipped on its wine. We have considered an outlook on life that lacks the mystery and transcendence of your teaching. And they have all come up short. You are the rose of Sharon in the desert. We have come to believe and know—our journey has led us here. We have come far. There is still uncertainty ahead. But your words are eternal life. And you are the Holy One of God. You are our last hope for truth. You are the only assurance of God’s grace. You are the only reliable revelation of the love of God. You are the only light for those who grope in the dark.

I love those words of Peter: “We have come to believe and know…” Following Jesus is a mysterious journey. It gives room to our individual stories. We have the freedom to question, explore, and consider the claims of Jesus of Nazareth. We discover for ourselves that following Jesus will always stand up as the best alternative in life’s journey. He is the way, the truth, and the life. He most beautifully and most truly reveals the love God has for the world.

Just think about Peter’s journey from here. To whom does he go when Jesus is arrested? He goes to his sword to cut of the ear of a servant. To whom does he go when they take Jesus away? He runs away along with the other disciples. To whom does he go when Jesus is being wrongly tried and crucified? He goes to warm himself around a fire and denies Jesus three times and returns to his former life as a fisherman. To whom does he go after all his failings, sin, and tears when he recognizes the resurrected Jesus on shore? Peter dives in the water toward the One who forgives, restores, and assures us of eternal life.

To whom shall we go? He invites us to follow. He gives room to our journey. He assure us that he is the Holy One of God—true Messiah—faithful Teacher with words of eternal life. He is most beautiful Revealer of the love of God for his creation.

Yet is God here? 
O, yes! By Word and promise clear, 
In mouth and soul 
He makes us whole—
Christ, truly present in this meal. 
O taste and see—the Lord is real.
(from hymn "What Is This Bread" v. 4)

"Wisdom's Feast" (Prov 9:1-6)

Proverbs 9:1-6

Pastor Tom Johnson, August 16, 2015

Wisdom has built her house. She has constructed a mansion in our community. She has built her palace on the firm foundation seven pillars cut out of solid rock. And today is open house. She has prepared a feast. Her roasting fire is burning, her ovens are baking. She has mixed her wines to maximize their aroma, flavor, and balance of taste. She has adorned her table with the finest linen and utensils in her home. She sends out her servant-girls. They have finished their work in the house. They are now have a mission to do outside. They are evangelists sent out to proclaim the word of wisdom and an invitation to join the party:

“You that are simple—you without sense, come in and eat! Come and drink! Leave your immaturity and foolishness behind and live. Have wisdom as your companion on life’s journey. Wisdom will be a lamp to your feet and a light to your path.”

She is so generous! But also and odd and strange! Wisdom does not invite the wise. She does not invite the perceptive. She does not invite the mature. She invites those who are poor in spirit. She invites those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Those who hear her call answer—only answer—because they see themselves as poor, hungry, and thirsty souls. Pride gets in the way of answering this call for “God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong” (1 Cor 1:27). This call goes out to those who are teachable—to those who are receptive to free and extravagant gifts—to those who have a sober self-assessment—to those who are humble enough to admit that we often live our lives aimlessly and without purpose and meaning.

How many times have we gotten out of bed in the morning without a sense of mission? How often have we done what the world tells us to do and followed our own noses? Sadly we often speak and act before we think. We lack a moral compass when we do not filter our words and actions with wisdom. But wisdom calls. Wisdom convicts us, “What can you learn today about life, about others, and about yourself? How can you grow to be a better and more loving person toward God and your neighbor? Are you willing to receive God’s lavish and loving gifts?” Wisdom challenges us to live: “Will you take a courageous step forward? Will you admit you shortcomings, your weaknesses, your neediness, and failure to do what God commands? When you hear the servant girls call out the simple, the immature, the hungry, and the thirsty; do you say, ‘Here am I. Send me!’”

To accept the servant girl’s invitation is to believe in grace—God’s undeserved, unmerited, unearned gift—wisdom for the immature, food for the hungry, and wine for the thirsty. To go to Wisdom’s party is to celebrate the Gospel! In joy, we set our face like flint toward the home built on seven rock-hewn pillars. Yes, our thinking is clouded, our stomachs growling, and our mouths parched with thirst. But can you smell the smoke from wisdom’s kitchen? Can you hear the utensils being set on the table? Wisdom is about to be served. She calls you and me. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

Wisdom sends out her servant-girl Mary. “My soul magnifies the Lord,” she calls out, “and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name…He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” Wisdom sends out her servant-girl Anna to the temple. Anna grows mature, in years, and in wisdom as she tells others of the upcoming feast. She encourages those who were hungry and thirsty to be open and receptive. She calls us to wisdom made flesh, Jesus. Wisdom sends out her servant-girls Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome. They go to anoint Jesus’ dead body but instead find an angel and an empty grave. Wisdom sends them out to the disciples with the message “He is risen and gone before us into Galilee. We will see him just as he told us.”

Wisdom sends us out as her servant-girls. You and I go to the highways and byways to invite the undeserving, the immature, the sinful, the starved and parched. We invite the whole world to a lavish feast. We get to participate in the work and gift of wisdom. We don’t deserve it. We haven’t earned it. That should bring a smile and joy to our hearts as we give thanks for all his benefits and go out to the world with an honest message about who we truly are and how great God’s gifts in Jesus Christ truly are. Jesus is our feast. He says “Believe in God believe also in me. In my house are many rooms. I go to prepare a place for you—your heavenly home built on the rock-hewn pillars of my death and resurrection—my triumph over the devil and the grave. I give my Body for bread and my Blood for wine. Wisdom invites you. Take, eat; drink of it all of you. Grow in humility, dependence, and faith. Feast on my Word and promise to fill the hungry and satisfy the thirsty. Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

“Gracious and Mysterious Manna” (Exodus 16:2-4,9-15)

Exodus 16:2-4,9-15

 

Pastor Tom Johnson, August 2, 2015

Our first reading from Exodus begins with the Israelites already at the point of hunger and despair. “If only we had died in Egypt…where we had slowly cooked meat and plenty of bread to eat.” Hunger and hopelessness has given them a selective memory. They remember the meat pots and bread. But they seem to have forgotten the burden of slavery, the whips of their masters, and the threat of death from Pharaoh and his army. Even worse, they accuse God of attempted murder: “You have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” God, they say, has only brought them through Red Sea on dry land and drowned Pharaoh’s army in order to end their misery with starvation—to leave them as orphans in the wilderness. These refugees from oppressive Egypt had been through a lot—a lot more than we could probably imagine. They had been through hundreds of years of slavery. They had spent generations living under oppression and the abuse of power. Their fear is legitimate. Their basic, human needs were not being met. They were being brought low and to their knees again by their homelessness and hunger. Most of us can only imagine the kind of regrettable things we would say under the same circumstances.

What kinds of things have you or I thought, said, or prayed when we feel discouraged or hopeless? What malice have we accused God of when things haven’t gone our way? “God, you allowed this to happen to me!” “This is out of my control—you did this to me!” “I was happier before I began to take my faith more seriously.” “My spiritual journey seems to have reached a dead end without any hope in sight.” I wonder if you are like me when I think about the nature of God. When I consider the Creator of heaven and earth listening to such prayers and outcries; even when—especially when they well up in my heart, fill my thoughts, and  come out of my mouth.

Shouldn’t God be supremely annoyed? Doesn’t he deserve the utmost respect? Does he not shoot daggers at us when he hears such outrageous ingratitude and unbelief? Will he not send lightning and fire and brimstone from heaven? No. Thanks be to God, no. Not daggers, lightning, fire, or brimstone but bread from heaven. Gracious bread of heaven. Bread that we do not deserve for good behavior nor have we earned by our toils. So he gives the Israelites bread. Mysterious bread of heaven. Every morning there was a layer of dew that covered the camp. The fine, flaky substance was gathered as fine as frost on the ground. And only one Hebrew word came to the lips of the Israelites: “Man?”

“What?” “What is it?” Moses answered that it is the bread that the Lord provided for them to eat. But it was too late. The universal wonder and mystery of this bread was so striking that the question sticks. The question becomes a name. And for the rest of the Hebrew Bible into the New Testament, this bread from heaven is known by the initial question: “Man?” or in it’s Greek transliteration “Manna?” It is an inside joke for those who know the story. It is a constant reminder that God answers his peoples cries with grace and mystery.

So his people are not only filled with bread for food for their bodies but he also fills them with wonder for food for their souls. This manna—this bread of heaven helps us more fully understand the gift that we have in Jesus, our Bread from Heaven. He is the one who says, “I am the Bread of Life.” He also mysteriously is sent from heaven to earth. He is the gracious gift from God that we neither deserve nor have earned. He covers the camp of his people healing assurance that the God who created us will sustain us by the Word of his power. He covers us by his perfect life and righteousness. Though our sins are as red as scarlet, he makes us as pure as snow and the morning dew. He gives Body as bread and his Blood as wine. He graciously and mysteriously communes with us, forgives us, and assures us of life everlasting body and soul.

One of the great things about this gift is the continuity of that inside joke that began in the wilderness thousands of years ago: “What?” “What is this?” “What is God doing?” “What do we call this stuff of grace?” So it is with God’s gift on the Altar today. What do we call it? “Holy Communion”? “The Eucharist”? “The Sacrament?” “The Lord’s Supper”? “The Lord’s Table”? Is it possible to fully explain this gift? Can we make it into a manageable formula? Or do we allow for and even celebrate the mystery? “What?” What is this? What? Grace instead of judgment? Mercy instead of indignation? What? A gift that transcends human understanding? A meal that surpasses human hunger and comprehension? We come out from the wilderness with our complaints, unbelief, despair, and hopelessness. And he feeds us with life, assurance of his forgiveness, and mysterious grace and strength for our bodies and our souls.

“What?” we ask. “Exactly,” says our Lord.